


An Unlikely Friendship

by maqqy96



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Cannon Divergent, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqqy96/pseuds/maqqy96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if we'd had a chance to recruit Saren on Virmire instead of what happened? How would things have changed?</p><p>Focuses primarily on Saren and Anderson's rivalry/friendship. Written for Spectre Requisitions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ME1 - Post-Virmire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



“Are you out of your mind, Shepard?” Anderson hissed, his entire body tensing. He glanced around Flux, worried that someone might spot and recognize the Turian seated beside the galaxy’s only human Spectre, despite the numerous layers wrapped around him and the hood pull up to cover his fringe and most of his facial features. However, there was a faint blue glow coming from under the hood that made Anderson very uneasy.

Shepard looked uncomfortable, but kept their voice low. “I know. This is about as usual of a situation as I can imagine, but there are benefits.”

“Such as?” Anderson asked, leveling a glare at the robed figure. Shepard leaned forward, their eyes eager.

“Such as getting inside info from someone who has been studying the Reapers for longer than us. Such as getting to study an individual who not only was indoctrinated, but managed to shake it off long enough to join us!” Shepard glanced at the Turian, a note of sympathy in their eyes. “And it offers a lost soul the chance to redeem itself.”

The Turian snorted in derision, but didn’t say anything. Anderson let his head drop, running his hands over his close cropped hair.

“I’m getting too old for this, Shepard. Why didn’t you just hand him over to the Council? They would-”

“The Council is far too busy trying to bury the idea of the Reapers existence.” The hooded figure spoke, his gravel-flanged voice carrying no further than their table. “If Shepard had handed me over to them, they would have executed me as a threat before I could tell them what I know. The moment I’m dead, the Reaper tech inside me will burn, forever destroying what little chance we have of learning from it.”

“And why should we trust you?” Anderson growled. The Turian smirked slightly.

“You shouldn’t. While I recognize that I am under the influence of the Reapers, they are still within my mind. I am constantly in pain and I must keep my mental guards up. One hint of weakness, and they will take me, this time likely for good. A part of me still doubts that helping you is the valid decision to follow, but Shepard has convinced me to give it a try. If it looks like you’re about to fail, I can always betray you and finish the mission Sovereign gave me.”

“Nice to know you have my back.” Shepard droned. The Turian shrugged.

“I’m disgusting and playing it both ways, but at least I’m open about it.” His expression became grave. “However, I meant what I said about not trusting me. The numerous pieces of Reaper tech throughout my body make me both an asset and a liability. Allow me to assist in bringing them down, but do _not_ make the mistake of trusting me with anything. There’s a strong chance that Sovereign and the Reapers are allowing me to follow you simply so they can turn me against you at the most opportune moment. I am not so foolish as to believe I am capable of completely resisting their attempts to control me.”

Silence fell over their table, with Anderson glancing at Shepard in concern. After several moments, the older soldier sighed heartily, mopping his face with a shaking hand. Then he gave a weak chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nothing is ever simple, is it?” He muttered. The hooded figure coughed a laugh.

“On that, Anderson, we can agree.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, Arterius.” Anderson gave a slight grin, before nodding towards Shepard. “I trust you know what you’re doing, Shepard. The whole galaxy is riding on this. Now, how do we go about getting the Normandy out of lock down?”


	2. ME1 - Post Final Battle

Several tons of debris littered the Council chamber, making it impossible to search thoroughly. Anderson swore as he surveyed the large limbs of Sovereign strewn about the length of the entire room. Shepard was alive in there; they had to be!

It took time, but eventually one of the rescuers stumbled across the Quarian and the Turian, Tali and Garrus if Anderson remembered correctly. Both looked shaken, worn, but otherwise mostly uninjured. He glanced between them, dread settling on his shoulders.

“Shepard?” He asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. Garrus very gently shook his head, glancing over to the most debris ridden part of the chamber. Anderson’s hopes felt crushed as he surveyed the damage. A thin needle of cold stabbed through him, and his voice turned dangerous.

“Saren?”

The question hung there, and Anderson saw the tightening around Garrus’ face, the way Tali seemed to shrink away. Anger filled him, his jaw clamping tight. Everyone turned as they heard a noise from inside the debris, their weapons easily lifting into their hands as they searched for the cause. Two figures moved between the pieces, obviously injured. Anderson held his breath, waiting.

Commander Shepard crested one of the arms, a hand pressed to their injured ribs. Shepard’s other arm was wrapped around the waist of a familiar form, his face bleeding and his left arm now missing. With a quirk of his mandibles, the figure mockingly smiled at Anderson.

“Miss me?” Saren quipped. Without blinking, Anderson fired his weapon, the shot just missing Saren’s face by a mere inch. Saren looked at the hole and back at Anderson, stunned. Anderson returned his smirk.

“I won’t next time.”

* * *

Saren grumbled heartily as he watched the Council welcome Anderson as their equal. It filled him with dread to see humanity elevated to a position they hadn’t truly earned. While he had grudgingly come to admit that Commander Shepard was capable enough to perhaps be worthy of being a Spectre, it was their actions, and theirs alone, that deserved recognition. Allowing humanity to ride on the back of Shepard’s glory was disgusting and back-handed. To see Anderson himself being offered a position of power, to be named as a councilor?

Saren was almost glad he wasn’t a Spectre anymore. At least he wouldn’t have to consider Anderson his boss.

The three Councilors turned their attention to him, looking at his broken and beaten form with a mixture of hatred and pity. Saren was close enough to see their expressions, but he couldn’t hear their conversation as they turned from him back to Shepard. They were arguing about something, but Saren no longer cared. He had defied Sovereign, ripping out several of his implants as the Reaper had attempted to force him back under it’s control. He had won this battle, but even now, as his entire body hurt, he could feel the alien tech slithering through his veins, repairing the damage. The Reapers were not done with him yet.

A part of him wanted it all to be over. He had almost given up in the battle. ‘Let them take me’ Saren had thought. ‘There is no redemption for me.’ He remembered slumping, the biotic field he’d been maintaining wavering ever so slightly. Then Shepard had punched him. Hard. And then they’d yelled at him and told him to put his barrier back up. Saren had immediately complied, and all thoughts of giving up had vanished.

No pep-talk like a military pep talk.

They had huddled together on board the Normandy as initial repairs to the Citadel had begun. Everyone had been in shock so nobody had objected to Saren mindlessly wandering the ship. Oddly enough, his partaking in the final battle had managed to garner him a modicum of respect from the Normandy crew.

Strange, that the one people who treated him with some dignity and respect were the very people he had rallied against all these years.

As Saren continued to watch the Council speaking with their human allies, he felt his old prejudice begin to relax. Humanity was not ready for the responsibilities of being on the Council, but perhaps that wasn’t why they needed to be there. Perhaps it was the Council, so old and set in it’s respective ways, that needed the fresh, bull-headed, and often wild views of their human companions to help them move forward and prepare for the Reaper threat.

It was an interesting thought and Saren found himself content to sit and fret his way through it.

After a time, the humans gave the Council their farewells before they turned to rejoin him where he sat under questionable guard. As Shepard approached, a gruff voice rumbled behind Saren.

“So, can I kill him yet?” Wrex asked, nudging Saren with his shotgun. Saren hissed half-heartedly, still mulling over his shift in thinking towards humanity. Thankfully, Shepard just grinned at the Krogan.

“Now now, Wrex, if I let you kill him I’d have to let _everybody_ kill him and there’s not that much of him left.” Shepard chuckled, then fell serious as they turned towards Saren. “The Council has agreed to send you to a guarded hospital on Sur’Kesh. They’ll do their best to study the various bits of tech inside you, and if you’re willing…”

Saren knew what the pause was for and nodded.

“I am willing to have organ replacement therapy and whatever else is necessary to remove this poison from inside me. However, once they remove the tech, there’s a good chance it will self-destruct.”

“So I warned them.” Shepard nodded. “I’ve got a long report to write up and send to the doctors, but with luck, in a few years, you might resemble a Turian again.”

Saren ignored the tease. Instead, he gave a worried look to Shepard.

“They will come after you now.” Saren spoke gravely, all eyes shifted towards him. “They don’t take kindly to those who would pose a true threat. Expect them to retaliate.”

“Any hints on what they might try?”

“All I can tell you is to trust nothing and no one. They will come at you in any way they can.” Saren had trouble keeping the concern from his voice. Despite their rough start, Saren was somewhat appreciative of Shepard and didn’t wish to see them die horribly. Shepard nodded, thanking Saren and giving him a rough hand shake as a group of security agents came and cuffed him. Anderson stood to the side, watching, a mixed expression on his face. Saren gave him a grin.

“This must be so wonderful for you, Anderson. Enjoying the show? Maybe you can ask them to rough me up a little, just for your visual pleasure.” Saren scoffed. “At least I won’t have to be here to watch you flounder hopelessly as they make you a leader of the free people.”

Strangely enough, Anderson didn’t respond to Saren’s bait.


	3. ME2 - Normandy’s Destruction

A shaking hand raised yet another glass of brandy to Anderson’s waiting mouth. Before him played a news report, the same one he’d been watching for the past half hour. A young woman would smile and report on light-hearted affairs, then, with a reversal of emotion that left Anderson feeling light-headed from the insincerity of it all, the same woman would begin reporting on the latest info available about the attack on the Normandy.

Anderson had been alerted by Hackett before the news vultures had swooped in on the story. According to survivors, the Normandy had fallen under attack by an unknown ship, losing over 20 individuals over the skies of Alchera. That information had been difficult enough for Anderson, who had hand-picked most of the crew himself almost a year prior. Some of them he’d served with multiple times.

But Shepard?

Closing his eyes, Anderson took a swig of his Brandy, the warm burn doing little to ease the cold emptiness in his stomach.

Shepard was MIA.

Anderson knew better than to hope. Shepard wasn’t one to simply disappear. If they were ‘missing’, then they were gone. That knowledge, more than anything, kept Anderson drinking until the bottle was empty.

* * *

Saren was curled up on the soft couch in the common room, content with his limited freedoms. Though the Council had every reason and right to lock him away and never allow him to wander again, Shepard had managed to finagle some limited freedoms. Though he was under constant scrutiny (a fact that normally would have bothered him but now made him feel slightly more comfortable and secure), Saren was allowed to exercise in the yard and visit the common area of the hospital so long as he behaved himself. The other patients gave him a wide berth, and he’d already plowed through the small library of books available, but Saren was forced to admit he felt content.

He glanced over the messages he’d received since being locked up. He’d been stunned when he’d been handed the first one, a lengthy report from Anderson on Shepard’s continued hunt for Reaper tech. Though the message was obviously withholding certain information, the fact that Anderson felt inclined to include Saren made the ex-Spectre feel appreciated. Less like a traitor and more like he was still a part of Shepard’s crew.

The idea of feeling inclusion with a human crew was still a foreign and uncomfortable feeling for Saren. Since he had first met the creatures back in his late teen years, he had never liked humans. The fact that one stood so far apart from its fellows to make him feel as though he belonged still shook Saren. Even his own people had abandoned him, brushed him off as crazy.

His own replies had been short and to the point. Saren had never been one to display emotions well, and at the very least, that hadn’t changed. Most of his reports were on the various surgeries he’d undergone over the past few months to begin fixing the horrible damage caused by the reaper tech implanted throughout his system. Already his digestive tract had been repaired enough that he was beginning to get an appetite for the first time in years, though he still couldn’t stomach anything solid. According to the doctors, they estimated another year or so of extensive work to get him back to 80% functionality. Sadly, some of the tech couldn’t be removed so Saren would most likely be under Reaper control for the rest of his life, however long or short it might be.

At least they have plenty of chocolate pudding here, Saren snorted without amusement.

One of the orderlies walked up to Saren, giving him a false smile, one that Saren did his best to return. “And how are we today, Mr. Arterius?”

The idea of going from one of the most feared and respected Spectres in the galaxy back to ‘Mr’ still rubbed Saren the wrong way. Even so, he shrugged it off.

“I am well enough. Is there a reason for the questioning? If not, my stories are about to start and I’d prefer to be undisturbed.” Saren did his best to sound polite, though the constant poking and checking of the Salarian and human orderlies annoyed him. That and _Palaven Passions_ had become something of a guilty pleasure for him. The Salarian just smiled bigger.

“Well, if you can put aside your vid viewing for a little bit, there’s someone here to see you.”

Saren perked up slightly. Was he being allowed visitors now? Who would come to see him? As he hoisted himself off the couch to follow the orderly, he privately swore that if it was his Aunt, he might just have to kill someone. He’d left explicit instructions that none of his former family members be allowed to make his already fragile mental state even worse.

The sight of now Councilor Anderson was a complete shock to Saren, enough to rob him of his usual sarcasm and wit. Nodding absently to the orderly, he sat himself across from the human, folding his hand on the table before him.

“To what do I owe this honor, Councilor?” Saren couldn’t help the slight stress he put on Anderson’s new title. As Anderson sat himself across from him, Saren couldn’t help noticing the tired slump to the man’s shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, the slight stench of old alcohol on his breath. Life had grown difficult for the old soldier, and Saren felt a surprising, albeit small, touch of concern.

“A month after the destruction of Sovereign,” Anderson began without preamble, speaking low so as not to be overheard by any of the random passersby. “A ship of unknown origin and make attacked the Normandy.”

Saren stiffened, clenching his hand into a fist. “Shepard?”

The answer was clear from the sadness permeating from Anderson. Even so, Saren held his breath until Anderson shook his head. Saren felt himself deflate slightly, before slamming his hand loudly on the table.

“Dammit, I warned them! I told them-”

“Keep it down, Saren!” Anderson hissed, glancing around as the other residents began looking their way. “Nobody is supposed to discuss current events with you, and I had to swear to keep quiet myself or I wouldn’t be allowed in. The Council wants you left in the dark. Seem to think it’ll keep you out of trouble.”

Saren calmed quickly, though he still smouldered. “So I had noticed. Other than a few vid shows, we don’t have much to watch, and the orderlies are careful not to leave any datapads lying around.”

“Have you heard anything?” Anderson asked, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. Saren snorted.

“Please. I wasn’t the best because of my smouldering good looks, Anderson. I smile and nod and pay service to the people here but I’m not without my own resources. A day after my arrival, I knew which doors remained unlocked and unwatched. Securing an extranet connection was child’s play.” Saren felt the grin melt off his face. “Sadly, because I am watched so thoroughly, I rarely have time to indulge myself. Most of what I know is from what I’ve heard and less what I’ve been able to uncover. For instance, I overheard one of the orderlies refer to Sovereign as a ‘Geth ship’, so it’s easy to assume the Council has instigated a cover-up.”

Anderson nodded. “Despite my rather vocal disagreement on the matter. Once the Normandy was destroyed and Shepard dead, they moved quickly to bury everything. The harder I fight against them, the more they ignore me.”

“And so you thought you’d come visit me for what? So I could give you insider information?” Saren snorted, shaking his head. “Most of the time I’m so heavily medicated I can no longer recall what solar cycle it is.”

“You and I are are two of the only people who still know the truth - besides the crew of the Normandy and most of them are still in shock. The entire galaxy is facing the greatest threat to its continued existence and the Council is too concerned with simply covering it up to be of any use. I need to know what we’re up against.”

Saren leaned back, his taloned finger tapping against the cheap plastic of the table they sat at as he thought. After a few moments, he shook his head. “Sovereign didn’t confide much in me, Anderson, though I probably still know more than most. If the Normandy was completely destroyed by an unknown vessel that wasn’t a Reaper, there’s only so many things it could be. More than likely, they were Reaper agents with orders to take Shepard out.”

“According to Joker, it wasn’t a geth ship.” Anderson pushed. Saren chuffed.

“No, it wouldn’t be, would it. A Geth ship would be recognizable nowadays, ironically enough.” Saren shook his head. “The only people with the firepower capable of destroying a stealth frigate like the Normandy would be…” Saren fell quiet, memories flooding him and filling his veins with icy dread. His shoulders dropped as the meaning struck him, his entire being radiating loss and hopelessness. Anderson looked at him, worried. Finally Saren sighed heartily, leaning forward and shoring up his mental grief. He’d chosen sides, after all.

“Collectors.”

Anderson looked skeptical. “I thought they were myth.”

“Sadly, they’re very real. I had a few dealings with them, and came to know them as the Reaper’s favorite henchmen. They are a people who chose to serve rather than fight, and I took that to mean the same could be done for some of us. Where they come from is beyond me, however. All I know is they would come through the Omega 4 relay, do their job, and then disappear just as quickly.”

“You’re sure it’s them?”

“As I was not on board the Normandy during the attack, no, I’m not sure. I just know what they’re capable of. They use a mixture of technology, what must have been their own at one point but now is enhanced with Reaper tech.” Saren shuddered, remembering his first encounter with them. “Usually I would meet with them whenever I had indoctrinated subjects that had some sort of genetic mutation. I wanted to use the Collectors as foot soldiers, but Sovereign wouldn’t allow it. It never bothered explaining why, but that tells me they must serve a different purpose.”

Both men fell quiet, neither feeling comfortable enough to fill the silence with further conjecture. It wasn’t until Saren saw one of the orderlies glance their way and then at the a wall clock that he finally cleared his throat.

“Why are you here, Anderson? Really?” Saren’s voice cracked slightly, his discomfort apparent. Anderson chuckled without humor.

“Honestly? Because we have so few allies in this fight as it is, I can’t afford to ignore one, no matter how much I might want to.” Anderson gave him a glare, though it lacked the pure hatred from before. Saren couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Nothing like the threat of impending destruction to bring old enemies together.” Saren shook his head.

“Shepard trusted you. I don’t know why, but they did.” All humor bled away as Anderson stood up. “And while I may not like you, you’re the only person alive now who has had direct contact with these monsters. I may not like it, but we need you.”

“Anderson, I’m trapped here. There’s not much I’m going to be able to offer.” Saren glared as Anderson smirked at him.

“I thought you were supposed to be the best.”

Saren couldn’t help grinning as the Councilor left.

* * *

“In other news, rumor has it that former Spectre turned terrorist Saren Arterius has escaped from a high security medical facility. Though details are sketchy right now, C-Sec is urging everyone to keep their distance and report immediately any sightings or information. Saren Arterius is considered extremely dangerous, and individuals should not attempt to either approach or capture him themselves.” The reporter shuffled the datapads in front of her, her expression serious. “As many of you may remember, Saren Arterius was responsible for orchestrating the Geth attack on the Citadel almost 22 months ago, although there are still some who maintain that he also assisted in it’s defense-”

Anderson looked up from the report he was reading, and he couldn’t help the slight smile that graced his face for the first time in weeks. Shaking his head, he turned back to his reports, tuning out the reporter.


	4. ME2 - Meeting on the Presidium

Saren eyed the holograms of the three Councilors warily. Ever since his escape from the medical facility several months ago, there’d been a standing price on his head, dead or alive. Though a few unlucky fools had attempted to claim the reward, none had managed to track him down.

Well, and survive.

Thankfully, the Councilors seemed more interested in Shepard’s return from the dead. As well they should be, Saren couldn’t help but grin. No one else had the audacity to call the Council out on it’s worthless politics and pointless cover-ups. Standing beside Garrus, Saren was content to watch as Shepard maneuvered the Council into reinstating them as a Spectre. It wasn’t until he saw Anderson glance his way that his interest was peaked as well.

“-will allow you to take custody of Saren for the time being.” Valern was saying. “Any trouble he causes will be your responsibility.”

What was this? Saren perked up, unable to help the slight grin that rose his mandibles. Shepard nodded before saluting the Councilors, their holograms wavering before disappearing. Saren chuckled wickedly, causing all eyes to focus on him as he grinned at Shepard.

“So if I cause trouble, it’s your fault?” Saren laughed darkly. “I can live with that.”

“Not for long, you won’t.” Garrus growled, his sub vocals filled with warning. Anderson rolled his eyes while Shepard shook their head.

“Just hold it together long enough to destroy the Collectors.” Shepard admonished him, before turning to say his farewells to Anderson. Saren continued to chuckle, an impish gleam to his cybernetic eyes.


	5. Post ME2 - On the Citadel

Saren clenched his fists at his side, barely holding back his rage. The Normandy had managed to limp it’s way back to Omega, make some emergency repairs, then moved to dock at the Citadel. Shepard had insisted on making those two stops to allow everyone the opportunity to choose whether they wished to remain outside Citadel space or within. After all, though they were no longer Cerberus, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be treated as such once Shepard had turned themselves over to the Alliance. Shepard had taken Saren aside and tried to convince him to get off at Omega so he could lay low and not risk getting arrested by the Council.

Saren had refused.

Seeing the Collectors base, coming face to face with the enormity of their harvesting operation, Saren knew he couldn’t hide from this anymore. The last of his doubts about having joined Shepard had melted away when they’d torn the missing human crewmembers from their pods. The idea of melting down individuals to fuel a new Reaper… Saren shuddered. With absolute certainty he knew that Sovereign would have herded his people, along with the rest of the galaxy, to a similar fate. He would have damned the entire galaxy in a misguided attempt to save them.

Now he understood what he needed to do. As the last of the meager crew made their way off the ship, Saren paused, watching the rather tearful farewells between Tali, Garrus, and Shepard. Those three had been together for a long time now - since the beginning - and with this separation, they all knew there was a good chance they’d never see each other again.

Saren felt a small wrenching pain in his chest as he looked at them. Though they’d started out watching him with distrust, their long fight against the Collectors had brought them together. He realised he was going to miss them, and the feeling confused him. He’d only ever had one friend since the death of his older brother. And he’d shot that friend in the back of the head at Sovereign's bidding.

“You would never have let me live this down, Nihlus.” Saren mused aloud as he watched Shepard and Tali hug each other tightly. Rather than feeling excluded from their farewells, Saren felt the need to stand over them and watch, to protect this moment as something near sacred. He would fight harder than anyone against the Reapers, if only to protect these three people so they could be reunited. It was with that thought foremost in his mind that he departed, not saying his goodbyes.

No sooner had he stepped off the ship then he saw Councilor Anderson standing there with two guards, waiting for Shepard. The human looked so tired. Saren had come to know Anderson better as he’d gotten to know Shepard. He knew Shepard looked to Anderson much like a father-figure, so Saren could only imagine how difficult this must be for the Counselor. To arrest someone who was like your own child for doing what they felt was necessary to protect the galaxy?

At least Saren knew the Counselor would take care of Shepard. That was what truly mattered.

As he stood there staring, Anderson finally noticed Saren. He gave a brief nod towards the ex-Spectre, none of their usual hatred and spite present even in jest. Saren walked up to Anderson, his subvocals trilling sadly.

“Councilor.”

“Arterius.”

“Take good care of them.”

Anderson gave Saren a curious look. Saren couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve grown rather fond of Shepard. Interesting, isn’t it? You humans are much like varren. Annoying and dangerous when allowed to run wild. But with a gentle hand and a great deal of patience, you become almost lovable in your clumsiness.”

Anderson glared, though there was little heat behind it.

“Despite my best efforts to maintain a professional disinterest, I’ve grown rather fond of Shepard.” Saren continued relentlessly, enjoying being able to irk Anderson. “I would take it as a great kindness if you’d watch Shepard and care for them, since I will no longer be able to.”

“Shut up, Arterius.”

Saren chuckled wickedly for several moments before the humor faded. He looked over the docks of the Citadel, watching the various ships move about. A sliver of worry worked its way into his gut, and he found himself speaking without thinking through it first.

“Don’t go back to Earth, Anderson.”

The human looked surprised at the concern in Saren’s voice. The former Spectre found himself staring worriedly at the heavy traffic, knowing such peaceful scenes would soon vanish.

“The Reapers will strike the homeworlds first. They’ll destroy our communication, leave us in the blind, unable to call for aide. If you take Shepard back there, you’ll both be trapped and killed when they arrive.”

Saren finally turned to look at Anderson, his eyes sad and his subvocals bleeding with his concern. “I don’t have so many people I would call friends that I want to lose any of you. And yes, I’m including you in that statement, you wretched bastard. Try not to let the shock kill you.” Saren glared at the look of stunned amusement on Anderson’s face. “Lie to your Alliance if you must, but let Shepard go. Repair the Normandy and head for remote areas. Once the fighting starts, you can return to help the battle, but please, I beg you, _don’t go back to Earth._ ”

For several moments, silence reigned. The odd mixture of emotions slowly melted from Anderson’s face, leaving behind an oddly determined expression.

“That’s precisely why we have to go back. When the homeworlds are attacked, those people are going to need us to lead them through it. I can’t run away and wait for the Reapers to arrive. I intend to stay on the Alliance and the Council, get them moving. If I can buy us even a few seconds, save a few dozen extra lives, it will be worth it.” Anderson shook his head sadly. “I wish I could let Shepard go. But the Batarians will start a war if we don’t do something, and right now, that would be disastrous. We can’t afford to be divided right now.”

Anderson smiled suddenly, appearing confident. “Don’t worry about Shepard. I can keep the hounds at bay for a time. I doubt once the Reapers attack that anyone will care about arresting them.”

Saren sighed, his shoulders slumping for a moment before he straightened. “In that case, do what you must. I will do the same. If nothing else, I know who to talk to in order to surpass the Council if they continue to refuse to listen to reason.” Saren smirked at Anderson. “Try not to die horribly, Anderson. I’d hate for you not to be present when I stand victorious over the fallen forms of the Reapers.”

Anderson couldn’t help rolling his eyes as Saren stormed away towards the Presidium.


	6. ME3 - Saren’s Recruitment

The Reapers had arrived.

The thought filled Saren with a dread and hopelessness that threatened to destroy him. Though the implants inside him had whispered to him since Shepard had recruited him, he had fully expected them to start screaming the moment the Reapers appeared. Instead, the sound grew at a barely perceptible rate. Saren knew, with a sickening horror, that his demise would be slow and filled with pain.

Such was the price he would pay for his betrayal.

Knowing his time was limited, Saren scrambled to fight. During the hunt for the Collectors, Saren had got back in touch with his various old contacts that he knew could still be trusted. After many favors and quite a bit of money, Saren had amassed a small army of believers. Together, they had gone behind the Council’s backs and built various supply dumps and other contingencies.

As refugees poured into the relative safety of the Citadel, Saren emerged with his people to assist. Medical and housing vessels docked, taking aboard as many as they could. An influx of various medical supplies were delivered to the main hospitals, and food rations to emergency housing areas.

Tevos almost kissed him when she heard what he’d managed to do.

And then Shepard had arrived, the Normandy a symbol of hope for the people, though Saren flinched as he saw the half-finished retrofits inside. Looking at the skeleton crew that now manned the ship, he felt a slight sliver of fear caress his spine.

“Where’s Anderson?” He finally asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“He remained behind to lead the resistance on Earth.” Shepard replied, their tone heavy with suppressed emotion. Saren felt his heart sink a little, even as the Reaper implants carved their way coldly through his body, rejoicing in his pain.

He didn’t have time to worry about others.


	7. ME3 - Grissom Academy

Saren looked around the destruction and devastation of Grissom Academy, a feeling of sympathy gnawing through his stomach. He knew the place was heavily populated by young Biotics, and wandering the school brought forward memories he’d long since thought buried. Shepard noticed his distracted look and finally managed to catch his attention.

“Focus Saren. Is it the Reaper signals again?” Shepard asked, their voice stern and commanding, though there was a hint of compassion. Saren shook his head, his eyes still wandering the hallways.

“So few places are safe for a young Biotic, just beginning to learn their power. I would have given anything to have had a place like this to study.” Saren sighed, checking his weapon. “I suppose no place is going to be safe for long, is it, Shepard?”

Shepard didn’t answer, instead motioning them forward.

It didn’t take long before they found the person who had called them in, and Saren found himself stunned as he looked at the blonde woman.

“Kahlee Sanders?”

The woman looked at Saren, confused, her eyes flickering over his features without recognition. Saren felt his stomach clench painfully. The Reaper tech that continued to spread through his body had changed him so much that someone who had met him back before he was indoctrinated failed to recognize him. For several moments things were quiet, until the light of recognition graced Sanders.

“Saren?!”

“Yes-” Saren didn’t get to finish whatever he’d been about to say when a fist decked him. Hard. Shaking his head to clear the flashing lights that now danced before his eyes, he saw Shepard standing between them, trying to calm a visibly furious Sanders. After a heated discussion, Kahlee finally stood down, though the look she gave Saren was less than friendly.

Considering how they had last parted, Saren honestly didn’t blame the woman.

Before long, they headed out, leaving Kahlee alone. Saren felt uneasy for some reason, as he glanced back at the locked room a final time. It took a moment to figure out why he was worried.

Anderson.

That human was back on Earth, fighting for his people, putting his life on the line. He had always been the sacrificing type, having given up his career as a potential Spectre to save the very woman they were now leaving behind. Saren knew there was a good chance any of them could die at any moment, but Anderson especially was taking a lot of risks. Though Saren owed Shepard a great deal, he also owed Anderson for all he’d done over the years.

Silently, Saren promised that he would watch over Kahlee and keep her safe. It was the least he could do.


	8. ME3 - Arrival on Earth

“Commander, prepare for extraction!”

Major Coat’s voice sounded gruff, strained but determined, reflecting the general mood around him. Anderson wished he could pace inside the cramped quarters of the shuttle, wished he could make it move faster. With the side door open, he could see Shepard and their two crewmates fighting against an entire hoard of Reapers. No sooner did they pull up then Shepard sailed across the distance, landing inside the shuttle and immediately turning to give covering fire to the lagging member of the team.

The shuttle took off, leaving the Reaper’s behind, and Anderson watched as Major Coats turned towards Shepard. “You okay?”

“I’m alive.” Shepard shrugged.

“That you are, Commander.” Anderson strode up behind the fighter, so happy and relieved to see them. Shepard turned, looking tired despite the smile that lit their face.

“Anderson!”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Shepard.”

Shepard took Anderson’s hand, using the moment to pull him into a fierce hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Anderson felt relief wash through him. Maybe now they stood a chance. “And you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

* * *

As Anderson had foreseen, when Shepard arrived at the forward base, it was much like a cool breeze through a parched desert for the troops. Hope spread like wildfire amongst the fighters, keeping them upright and cheering as the relentless attacks of the Reapers paused, as though they were intimidated by the arrival of such a powerful individual. Anderson smiled at his protege, more proud of them now then he’d been in a long time.

The two of them spoke for a time, with Anderson bringing Shepard up to date on the state of the resistance. The two agreed to meet inside the command base, as Shepard departed to make contact with their people, possibly for the last time. Trailing in behind Shepard was the crew of the Normandy, some faces he remembered, others were strangers. The female robot was definitely a surprise, though Anderson had heard of EDI’s take-over of the captured Cerberus tech. Trailing behind them, his hand pressed to the side of his head, was a figure both painfully familiar and horrifyingly unrecognizable.

“Saren?” Anderson sucked in a shocked breath. The former Spectre hardly resembled a Turian anymore. Instead, he looked more like the Marauders they’d been fighting; almost all his organic parts had been overtaken. However, one of the metallic mandibles twitched into something like a smile.

“Anderson.” Saren’s voice rang hollow, electronic screeches barely heard where his subvocals had been. Anderson felt himself choke somewhat, but Saren held up a shaking hand to stall him from asking.

“Kahlee’s safe. She won’t be anywhere near the fighting.” Saren nodded once with satisfaction. Anderson raised an eyebrow. Saren reached towards his side, and several guns pointed his way. Saren glanced over at the armed humans, a look of amusement in his eyes. Anderson waved the soldiers to stand down, walking closer to the former Spectre as Saren pulled out a datapad and handed it to him. “She asked me to give this to you should I meet up with you.”

“Thank you.” Anderson felt his throat tighten as he imagined his blonde lover, worry gnawing at him. “You’re sure she’s safe?”

“As safe as anyone can be in these end times.” Saren snorted, shaking his head and wincing, his entire body shuddering violently. After a moment, the tremor passed, and Saren turned back to him as though nothing had happened. “She worked on your crucible project, so she was kept from the fighting. Unfortunately, I’m not sure where she is now.”

“It’s alright. Thank you. For looking out for her. Really.”

“She punched me.”

Anderson barked a laugh. Yes, that sounded like his Kahlee.

The two of them made their way into the forward camp, several people scurrying about to the distant sound of gunfire. Several eyes glanced at Saren with a mixture of fear, suspicion, and outright hatred.

“Nice to know some things will never change.” Saren commented dryly. Anderson cringed.

“I don’t think they recognize you. You look like a Marauder-”

“I _am_ a Marauder.” Saren huffed, ignoring the surprised look from Anderson. “The doctors were never able to remove all the Reaper tech from inside me, and it’s been slowly converting me for the past few years. When the Reapers struck, the conversion rate increased. Even now, their whispers have grown to shrieks inside my head. It won’t be long now…”

Anderson felt sick as he stared at Saren. “Is there nothing that can be done?”

“Only what we’re doing now.” Saren shook his head, giving Anderson a weak smile. “Everything will be decided in the next few hours. Either we will be victorious, and the Reaper’s will no longer hold a sway over me. Or we will fail, in which case we’re all dead anyways. So I’m doing my best not to worry.” Saren gripped Anderson’s shoulder, the shaking in his body evident even though that light touch. “Don’t worry, old friend. I will hold it together for as long as I am able, but I haven’t endured for this long just to give in. I fully intend to see this through to it’s end, for better or for worse.”

The two men stopped walking, a strange expression on Anderson’s face as he stared at Saren.

“I never would have thought you’d say something like that so easily.” Anderson spoke barely above a whisper.

“I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms-”

“No. I meant the part where you refer to me as an ‘old friend’.” Anderson couldn’t help the amused expression, which caused him to break into a smile as Saren gave him an exasperated look.

“Don’t belabor it, Anderson. I’m near enough to death as it is.”

Anderson laughed good-humoredly, clapping Saren roughly on the back.


	9. ME3 - Rush for the Beacon

The Normandy had been called. Shepard needed to evac the team they’d taken with them on the ground. Saren stood in the docking bay of the Normandy, still feeling somewhat bitter at having been told to remain behind. Though Shepard’s logic about him falling to Reaper control while so many were around was sound, Saren had no intention of hiding away while the Galaxy fought to keep the end from happening. Despite the increase in Reaper signals that threatened to prove Shepard right, he had enough will left to resist them.

For now, at least.

He had to admit, though, that when the Normandy hovered above the ground and accepted the injured duo from the ground team and Shepard stood there saying farewell to their love, Saren felt the pull of the Reapers strongly, his entire being raked through hot barbed wire as they commanded him. He watched as Shepard ordered the Normandy to leave, heading towards the beacon with only the handful of surviving fighters. A sliver of fear snaked down his metallic spine, and before he realized what he was doing, Saren had charged off the ramp, following a short distance behind Shepard, ignoring the surprised outcries from the Normandy crew.

Despite the bullets that tore through him, his legs felt a strength flow through them that he thought he had lost long ago. The thunder and roar of Harbinger’s main weapon burned through his veins, but he did not stop, did not falter. He kept his eyes on the back of the warrior he had come to call friend, firing on any Reaper force that got too close to them. If he did nothing else with his life, he’d damn well insure that Shepard, that _someone_ , would make it to the beacon to end all this madness. To end his madness.

And then he saw it. Shepard was knocked down, vulnerable. They struggled to stand. Harbinger fired.

Then nothing.

There was no way Shepard could have survived that shot. Saren felt himself grow heavy for a moment, but something bade him to keep running. Turning from his friend, he charged for the beam himself, stunned when he noticed a familiar form running just ahead of him. Smirking to himself, Saren couldn’t think of any two people more appropriate to end the Reapers than the two idiots who had unknowingly stumbled upon them all those years ago.


	10. ME3 - An End, Once and For All

The ride through the Beacon was not what Anderson would call pleasant. To awaken amongst the severed remains of his own people, bodies hanging from every corner and crevice?

There were certainly better ways to wake up, thought Anderson.

Though he was sore and tired and was fairly sure he had a few extra holes in him than when he started, Anderson concluded he was more or less unharmed. Forcing himself to his feet, he raised a shaking hand to his earpiece.

“This is Anderson. I made it through the Beacon. Did anyone else make it?”

The silence and static gave Anderson an eerie feeling. Instead of dwelling on it, he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. His omni-tool told him he was on the Citadel, but he could scarcely believe that. It was certainly no place on the Citadel that he had ever visited.

Picking his way around the numerous dead bodies and the Keepers who seemed to be sorting them, he made his way forward, heading down the long corridor. He was about halfway through when his omni-tool pinged. Raising his hand to his earpiece again, he knew who must have made it into the Beacon with him.

“Shepard!” He whispered urgently.

No answer.

“Shepard!”

A slight moaning sound was all he heard at first. Then a tired voice sounded quietly in his ears.

“Anderson. You up here, too?”

The old soldier felt his heart clench with worry at the pained response, but at least he was no longer alone up there.

* * *

“Hold on… I see something. A Control panel maybe.”

Anderson moved his tired, aching bones forward, wanting to open the arms of the Citadel before his body gave out. “I’m just going to go on ahead to check it out. I’ll radio-”

His earpiece squawked with static, causing him to wince. Shaking his head, he turned back to the panel he saw, reaching out to activate it.

No sooner did Anderson move to touch the panel than he felt his muscles lock, his entire body going rigid. A sense of no longer being in control filled him, turning his veins to ice as fear gripped him. Woodenly, he was forced to turn around, his eyes falling on a very injured and limping Shepard, who stared at him in pained confusion.

“Anderson…” Shepard sounded worried. A whispering, a madness, seemed to breath through them as they locked eyes.

“Shepard…” He ground the words from his throat, barely able to breath on his own. “I can’t…”

A lone figure walked up from where Shepard had just come from.

“I underestimated you, Shepard.”

Anderson felt sick as he listened to the Illusive Man continue to talk, empty words about controlling the Reapers, controlling them. Insanity dripped from every word, indoctrination bore into his very mind and wriggled like diseased worms into every fiber of his being. Even so, the Admiral refused to stand down, talking back whenever he could force the words from his throat. More than anything, he wanted to draw his weapon, to end the madness before him. His muscles, however, refused to respond to his own will, bowing before this traitor.

The Admiral watched helplessly as Shepard was forced to raise their gun, a look of dread and such naked fear in their eyes. Anderson’s heart wrenched at the sight, wishing he could reassure them that he knew this wasn’t their will, their choice.

“I’ve dedicated my life to understanding the Reapers, and I know with certainty: the Crucible will allow me to control them.” The Illusive Man spoke, his tone displaying his full confidence.

“And then what?” Shepard sneered. The Illusive Man ignored them, raising a fist in show of dominance.

“Look at the power they wield! Look at what they can do!”

Anderson felt the bullet rip through him, knew that it struck true. A sense of melancholic acceptance poured through him as he began to bleed out. Very soon, it would be all over for him - there was no stopping it. He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of Kahlee, saw Shepard wavering before him. He wouldn’t be there to help them rebuild, but Shepard… Shepard would take care of everything. They always did.

The Illusive Man was gloating again, saying something about standing for something bigger than himself. Anderson forced his mouth open, wanting to show some last sign of defiance.

The words never came.

A shot rang out, loud and reverberating in the small space. Crimson blood splattered the floor just behind the Illusive Man, who turned slowly, as they all did, to look back at the entrance. There, leaning against a wall and shaking so much that he could barely aim his assault rifle, was what was left of Saren. White blood trailed along several injuries, further sign of his bodily changes, and his eyes had all but lost any glimmer of organic life. However, there was a firmness to his gaze.

“Die, Jack Harper, you son of a-!” Saren snarled out before opening fire again. This time, the Illusive Man went down, and whatever hold he held over Anderson and Shepard was released. Anderson suddenly found his own legs were too weak to hold him up anymore. Absently he could hear Shepard as they hobbled over to the control panel. The floors shifted, feeling warm and alive underneath him as he struggled to sit up, the arms of the citadel opening to reveal the ongoing battle and the blue planet resting in a sea of black just beyond. Anderson smiled as he gazed at the sight, his eyes watering. Shepard roughly collapsed beside him, wincing as they moved. Their injuries looked bad to the old warrior, but Shepard was tough. They’d make it through this and carry on, the Admiral just knew.

A loud, heavy thump to his right, Anderson couldn’t feel the slight sense of amusement at Saren sitting next to him. Of all the people to be there when they brought about an end to all the madness, Saren was the last one he expected, especially so with all his implants. His body armor was so covered in the white blood-like fluid that ran through him that he appeared almost ghost-like. Fitting, Anderson mused, for someone who had worn the title of ‘Spectre’ for most of his life.

Anderson gave his two companions a brief nod. “Arterius. Commander.”

Saren snorted, though Shepard gave the Admiral a weak smile. “We did it.”

“Yes we did.” Anderson spoke breathlessly, hardly able to believe it himself.

“All that just to hit a damned button.” Saren snorted, shaking his head. His voice waved, weak, and his body shook constantly. Anderson bumped his shoulder against the Turian.

“Don’t spoil the moment.” Anderson chided, though there was no heat to it. Saren weakly chuckled, as the three of them glanced at the scene that had opened before them.

“It’s quite a view.” Anderson’s voice was quiet, almost reverent.

Shepard cringed, groaning from their injuries. Even so, they managed to breath out and answer. “Best seats in the house.”

“I wonder how the fight on Palaven goes.” Saren looked at Earth sadly, his voice fading. “It feels like forever since I last visited it. Always told myself I would do so soon...”

“We’ll visit. After the Reaper’s fall, the Normandy will escort you back.” Shepard winced, making a pained noise in their throat. “You’ll get a hero’s welcome. I promise.”

“A hero.” Saren whispered so quietly. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”

The words stopped then, as the blue glow pulsating from inside Saren seemed to flicker and go out. His head leaned to the side, one metallic mandible brushing against Anderson’s shoulder.

The Admiral didn’t need to look. He knew.

Anderson stared ahead, eyes locked on Earth for several moments, his body slowly relaxing, the pain ebbing away as silent tears trickled down his cheeks. “God...feels like years since I just sat down.”

“I think you earned a rest.” Shepard choked. Anderson muttered something, his eyes blinking slowly. “Stay with me. We’re almost through this.”

Anderson felt the heaviness of his body lighten as he took the cold, lifeless, three-fingered hand resting beside him and held it, bidding a silent farewell to someone he never thought he would come to call his friend. At least Saren wouldn’t be making this journey alone, Anderson mused. Mustering the last of his strength, Anderson turned toward Shepard.

“You did good, Shepard. You did good. I’m proud of you.”

And then, Shepard was alone.


End file.
